Sunbreak and the one that she had named Vard dove at the tipping caravan, trailing grapnels on ropes. They managed to catch the roof edge and swooped in to the hillside, landing hard. They looped the lines around stout brush and heaved, bracing all hooves against the load.
The wagon stopped tipping. For the moment, they all, working together had it. Sunbreak called, “Hitch back up as fast as you can and haul to the hillside, away from the soft edge!”
Maina and Malit hitched in more quickly than any of us expected. Maina called cadence, “Lean right! Lean left! Haul right! Haul straight! Haul right! Straight! Right!”
To the roaring of pegassi wings driving hard, the creak of rope and harness, the heavy wagon moved slowly back to safer pathway. As soon as it was secure, Maina hauled the brake line tight to keep the wagon from shifting while the pegassi got clear. Sunbreak and Vard got their lines free of the brush that anchored them and removed the grapnels from the wagon.
Malit and Maina both had chests heaving from exertion. They were crying with relief at the saving of their precious home. We let them have a few moments to recover.
Sunbreak repositioned her road watchers and we got things going again. To distract them from the recent event, Nore began to sing loudly in Gyptian. The song had a strong cadence in one scale and a matching harmony in the other. It was also pretty profane, if you understand Gyptian. It was exactly what Maina needed. To judge from the rest of the band, they needed it too.
The sun was almost setting when our last caravan made it to the top of the notch. We invited, “Join us for the night. There will be water, herbal tea and good food!”
I added, “I served in the South Peak War. I know how bad those Mil Rations are! I promise you better food than you will get if you try risking a night flight back to your camp. Besides, watching these friends of mine dance and hearing them sing is worth it alone. Trust me on that.”
Malit and Maina took over the cook fire and started to grind some of our travel food patties into a flour. The troopers, flight gear set aside, watched with fascination.
“Isn’t it a pain to grind those? We can eat our rations straight,” asked one, with the insignia of a field cook.
Maina looked up blankly. Her grasp of Equestrian was still weak. Malit got the drift of it though. “We can eat these as is, Sir. Here, try one.” She hoofed him one of the baked patties and a bit of honey.
Eyes wide, the cook exclaimed, “These are good! Why aren’t our rations like this?”
Snickering, I retorted, “They are supplied by the lowest bidder. As long as they don’t poison you, the Brass doesn’t care!”
The whole group laughed, but many got thoughtful looks as they tasted bits of the patties that I went ahead and hoofed out, saying, “Down payment on dinner. Let the mares do their thing. They want to thank you properly for saving their wagon and everything that they need for making a living, not to mention that it is their home for now.”
While Malit and Maina were cooking and brewing up a big pot of tea, Sando and Rom got out a flute, drums, and a lyre which they gave to Phapa. The exotic music of Gyptia resounded from the Equestrian hills.
Nore began to dance.
All but the flute playing members of Rom’s band, even the ones cooking, began to chant in Gyptian.
Nore danced the Shehan Ja Rom for them.
That was followed by Sarel’s swirling sashes as she danced. Several of the watching troopers suddenly got it.
“Look at that dance! She is telling how we saved the wagon today!”
When Malit and Maina circulated among the troops with cups of tea and piles of sweet buns, the realities of military life asserted themselves.
Sunbreak called, “Line up. Let them serve, don’t mob them!” Tasting some of the sweet buns she added thoughtfully, “Perhaps I was hasty in saying don’t mob them! These are better than anything that I have ever got at a fair!”
Privately agreeing with Sunbreak, I pondered the possibility that we had found by accident, the means to make good bits at a fair. I knew, from my earlier life as Marchhare the Trader, exactly where and when all of the fairs within fifty miles were.
The Red Branch flood, as huge as it was, did not wipe out all the communities with fairs. Counting the gold that we had found up in the pass, we did not have enough to buy the land, build our homes, shops and settle down to a quiet life. The reward would likely change that but we did not have it yet.
I prefer to not count wealth that is not in hoof.
I was right about the troops. All twenty, counting Sunbreak, had a great time.
Breakfast was equally fine. Tea and batter cakes wrapped about berry preserves filled every pony there. Through a mouthful of batter cake, Vard declared, “If ever you need more help from the Equestrian Aerial Armor, just ask. If I have any say, you will get the help at once.”
Not every step of a journey is an adventure. The far side of the Notch was a long gentle slope. It was well wooded and we found some more useful and/or tasty things to add to our store.
We came out of the woods at a well tended Royal Road wayside. Rom stared in near disbelief. He said, “They have solidly mortared fire places and free wood to burn? How come nohorse steals the wood?” Feeling the solid footing under the grass, he stared down at what was, to him, a wonder. “How can there be such grass over ground that is firm underhoof for the pulling of our caravan?”
I laughed, but gently. “Rom, I did tell you that the Princess Luna spent two hundred years figuring these things out. Her title as High Commissioner of Equestrian Roads is not simply a title. She worked, in harness or by the magic of her own horn to learn how to create many sorts of roads, each suited to different purposes and kinds of land. She paid equal attention to the waysides for the convenience of the dray ponies who use the roads. See? Just over there, is a ready supply of clean water. Even the spacing and kinds of trees give both shade and shelter in bad weather.”
Sando was not paying attention to that. He was marveling at the road itself. “Marchhare, how is this road made? This is no mere layer of gravel. It is somehow locked in place.”
“That is right, Sando. First, the way is prepared by digging down to solid sub soil. Heavy larger stone is laid for a foundation and small rock poured and packed about it to half its depth. Smaller but still substantial cobbles then cover the foundation and also get half covered with locking gravel. This top surface is laid over that base and solidly packed. After that, the road is watched closely for ruts, holes or other problems and they are fixed promptly.
Maina observed, “These Royal Roads are a true marvel of this land of Equestria, if the rest of the system is as good as this.”
Casting a practiced eye at the road, I commented, “Most is better than this. This has had only indifferent maintenance. You will see.” In unwitting prophecy, I added, “We are going to be using these roads a lot for a while.”
We took the time to fix a nice meal before hitting the road.
Nore did little happy-skippy dance steps while pulling beside me. “It almost feels like the caravan is floating!” she exulted. “These roads are amazing!”
I was making for Haulmarket. They had a fair scheduled and I was guessing that it was still going to be put on. The town only lost a bit of commons and a few fields. They were going to need the income of the fair for cleanup, if nothing else.
It was not long before we found the first fair notice posted on a wayside note board. Haulmarket fair was still on and only two days of Pulling away.
Just outside of the town, we came to the fair turnoff. The pony there to steer exhibitors to the fairground nearly had an attack when he saw Rom’s band. Even my dear Nore, the smallest of the horses, was big enough that he had to look up to talk to her.
To his credit, he only asked the proper information and steered us down the correct way.
The layout director took one look at us and suggested, “You say you gonna do traditional dances and stuff? Go set up down there at the end of the midway. Make a big cul-de-sac ring out of your booths. You can do your dances in the middle of it.”
We parked the caravans in an open ring. Rom directed, “We can just put out the rain flys for booth roofs. Malit, do we have enough boards to set up counters? Nore, you are so good with boxes, can you make us some safe cash boxes?”
Things that we had were swiftly set up. Rom politely asked the fair set up director, “We have heard that you have flood damaged commons. There are trees and such washed onto it. We have need of some boards which we can split out of the flood wrack. We could also set up a big charcoal burn to help you clear the area for future use. Would that be acceptable?”
The director shrugged, “Don’t see why not, but anything to do with the commons has to go through the Council. I can’t say either way.”
Council Pony Foulip declared, “Big charcoal burn? That would be worth lots of bits! You keep your claw hooves out of that commons! We will let it by contracts and make us good money!”
He sent a pony around selling cheap boards for counters and such. Maina took one look at them and snickered, “Those are the sort of wood that you work from? No wonder your wheels are so bad!”
Malit and Nore, with Sarel’s help, solved the problem of booth parts by picking tall, overgrown grasses from both commons and fairground. Nore worked it over into fine woodlike boards, both light and strong.
Nore, pointing proudly at our beautifully appointed booths and said, “It was lucky for us, really, that the pony selling lumber for making booths had such shoddy wood. It made us look at using grass-wood, like we do for instruments and caravan sides and tops! Our booths look better than any of the others that are set up so far!”
Glancing up the Midway, I nodded. “That is certainly true! It looks like we are ready for tomorrow’s fair. What is for dinner?”
Like a conjurer doing a trick, Nore and Sando produced trays with an array of sweet nettle and clover buns. They had three dipping sauces for them. Along side, to complete things was a perfectly huge pot of tea!
We were all gathered around eating our sweet buns and drinking the tea when Council Pony Foulip strode up self-importantly and declared, “Fair don’t open till tomorrow! You can’t go selling that stuff yet!”